


Art & Soul

by allthehearteyes



Series: I’m Not A Playa, I Just Fluff A Lot [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Confession, Loving boyfriends, M/M, Teeny bit of angst, single mention of homophobic slur (not used by Michael or Alex), supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:41:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthehearteyes/pseuds/allthehearteyes
Summary: Alex finally shares a big part of himself with Michael.





	Art & Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, this one is _still_ very fluffy - but a little less silly than the others.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> ~~find me on tumblr (same username)~~

Alex rolls over and looks at a sleeping Michael, looking all golden and rugged, as the early morning sun caresses his skin. Michael is hands down _the_ most beautiful creature Alex has ever seen. _Who knew this old hunting cabin let in so much light?_

Alex grins as he watches Michael’s body rise and fall with each inhale and exhale, the easy rhythm soothing to Alex’s core. He loves waking up to Michael in his bed. Though he’s been staying over pretty regularly, Alex is still amazed to see his gorgeous and generous cowboy peacefully sleeping next to him.

Alex’s sleep is a lot less restful. Between muscle pains, stiffness, spasms, and the occasional nightmare, sleep often seems more like a chore than a way to recoup. Generally, he sleeps best next to Michael, but occasionally he still struggles to find the sweet spot. Often Michael will wake up with him, keeping him company and distracting him when rest is elusive. Initially it had been hard to accept, the care and the kindness, on face value (as anything other than pity), but Michael had insisted, persisted, and few can deny Guerin when he’s got his mind made up. _Who am I to resist him?_

Alex feels inspired, he grabs a pencil and the notebook off the nightstand. He starts putting thoughts and feelings to paper. Alex knows he’s not doing this enough, but when he does, he feels more at ease, more centered, more himself.

…

Michael feels warm and sated as he wakes up in sheets that smell of Alex. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the most exquisite scent he’s ever experienced. Though happy to be in Alex’s bed, he doesn’t have to roll over to know he’s alone. He knows that Alex’s sleep patterns are not ideal, and he hates knowing Alex is uncomfortable or in pain. _Why didn’t he wake me up?_

Michael gets himself out of bed and pulls on the first pair of pants he finds on the floor. The warmup pants are a bit snug around the waist. Michael smiles to himself. He loves stealing Alex’s clothes, though more times than not, it’s Alex who ends up wearing _his_ clothes. Michael is hard pressed to resist Alex when he does.

Pants on, he heads to look for Alex. First stop, the kitchen. No sign of his guy, other than a pot of hot coffee. Helping himself to a mug, he heads toward his second guess. Poking his head outside, he sees the porch and the rocking chairs are empty. Michael takes a breath and sighs. He was really hoping to find Alex enjoying his morning, sitting out front, and sipping a cup of joe. It’s typically not a good sign if Alex is in spot number three. Michael turns around and walks toward the spare bedroom in the back.

He taps lightly on the door, so as to not startle Alex. Often, when Alex is in the back room, he’s lost in thought, in memories, in pain (either physical or emotional, or both). There’s no answer to his knock, so Michael slowly opens the door. He fortifies himself for whatever wounds Alex is feeling, ready and willing to stay with him through it all. What he sees makes him take pause.

Alex is at the desk, back to the door, head down like he’s writing something. As he takes inventory of the room, Michael notices there are a couple of open boxes he's never seen before. Several notebooks and notepads strewn on the bed, the floor, the small end table.

This is not what he expected, not normally what he sees when Alex is back here. Too many times he’s seen Alex in a daze, staring off into space, barely aware of his presence. Sometimes he finds Alex laid out on the bed, face tight, as he tries to get through a muscle spasm or a spike of nerve pain. Sometimes he’s curled up on the floor crying and shaking, barely able to catch his breath. Once in awhile, Michael finds Alex in here looking through old pictures. Pictures of his battle buddies, of his father, of himself as a teenager. All those moments and memories are steeped in guilt, grief, anguish and self hatred. Michael never shies away from any of it, fully committed to the man he loves and his journey toward healing.

Michael clears his throat to indicate his presence. Alex looks up and over his shoulder with a slightly shocked look, but also a...smile? _Huh. This is new._

“Whatcha got there, Manes?” Michael juts his chin toward Alex’s notebook.

“Come in. Let me show you.”

…

Michael is standing in the doorway, well, leaning on the doorframe, shirtless, holding a cup of coffee and wearing a pair of pants that appear molded to his body. _Are those mine?_ Alex can feel a grin on his face. _But damn that man looks good in everything_ and _nothing._ He waves Michael over.

Alex is feeling a little nervous all of a sudden. _What if thinks it’s weird?_ Too late. Michael is right beside him. _It’s now or never, Manes._ Alex clears his throat as Michael looks over his shoulder at the pages on the desk.

“So, you know how I would draw or doodle in high school?” Michael nods in response. “Well, I’ve been sketching off and on over the last ten years, but mostly in the last two years.”

Michael just blinks, not looking at Alex at all, seemingly fascinated by the various sketches and pieces of linework on the desk. Michael reaches toward one of the sheets of paper, but stops short.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly. Alex nods, as Michael picks up one of the sketches and looks at it intently. They are both quiet. Alex has no idea what Michael is thinking or why he’s not saying anything. He’s feeling kind of awkward and exposed in the silence.

Finally, Michael looks up at Alex. His honey colored eyes brimming with tears. “It’s fucking beautiful.” He blinks as two fat tears roll down his cheeks.

Needless to say, this is not exactly what Alex expected, though he should have known better. He should have _known_ Michael would get it, understand it, would see his artwork, _really_ see it, and appreciate the depths of what he creates.

“Thank you.” Alex smiles at his brilliant cowboy, constantly impressed with how he handles all of Alex’s ups and downs.

“Will you tell me about it?” Michael wipes at his eyes.

Alex is seriously overcome. His eyes start to water too, as he nods and gestures for Michael to sit on the bed. Alex hasn’t ever shared this part of himself with anyone. He takes a deep breath, trusting the exceptional man before him, and begins.

He tells Michael about when he went away to bootcamp, that all he wanted to do was call and hear Michael’s voice. In lieu of that, he’d started to sketch when he could, to ease his mind and calm his nerves. He’d stopped abruptly, when another recruit found his work and immediately started ridiculing him for being an “art fag.” He explains how he shut down his art and creativity after that. That he didn’t try again for years, and that, other than walking away from Michael, it had been the hardest thing he’s ever done.

Alex shares how he would draw a little, from time to time, but that it felt like he had to hide it. That he felt tired of keeping secrets, and didn’t want to have anything else to keep in the shadows. It wasn’t until his combat injury that Alex started to really get connected with art again. Of all the physical therapy, occupational therapy, trauma therapy, group therapy, the one place Alex felt like himself (and not like a broken _thing_ being put back together) was art therapy. The art therapy room had been his solace, his place of respite. It’s where he made sense of himself again...his thoughts and feelings. He enjoyed all the different forms of art and various mediums they had used, but pencil to paper had always been like a song to his soul. So he really started again, then. Expressing himself, sharing himself, working on himself through his art.

Alex takes a big breath as he looks at Michael, warm amber eyes blinking back at him. He realizes their bodies are closer now. Somehow, while he was talking, Michael must have pulled the rolling desk chair closer to the bed. Alex’s knees are wedged between Michael’s knees and their hands are clasped together, resting on Alex’s thigh. Michael leans down and kisses the tops of Alex’s hands.

_This man… He’s amazing…_

…

_This man… He’s amazing…_

Michael is speechless. He is heartbroken Alex was so alone for so long, but beyond proud of his strength and deep resiliency. Michael looks into those warm brown eyes, and feels his body fill with love. _There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for his happiness._ Michael knows Alex doesn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be by his side every step of the way.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. You, you are simply _the_ most extraordinary person I’ve ever known.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex legitimately laughs. “What about you or your siblings? Your gift? How you’re literally from another planet?”

“Pfft. _That_. Whatever.” Michael can see the joy on Alex’s face, and the sight of his bright smile nearly fells him. “But really, thank you.”

“Thank _you_. Thank you for listening to me, being supportive of me, patient with me, and just being here with me. It means _everything_.” Michael brings their foreheads in close.

“Thank you for showing me what love is, for saving me from myself, for believing in me when I didn’t, and for letting me be here with you.” _Oh, shit. Now I’m crying again._ He knows Alex doesn’t care, won’t judge him, but he’s not trying to make this moment about himself. He just wants Alex to know how important and incredible he is.

They share a sweet lazy kiss. Michael can feel Alex’s fingers thread through his hair. _He_ does _love my curls._ Michael smiles into the kiss.

“Wanna see my sketchpads from over the years? I even have some from high school,” Alex asks, in between sweet kisses.

“Hell yes, I wanna see them! Are they all of me?” Michael jokes.

“Hrm, some.” Alex grins.

“What? Lemme see! I was only joking before, but now I mean it.  I _really_ wanna see your art.” Alex snorts at Michael’s silliness, but he reaches for a couple of the sketchbooks.

As Alex animatedly discusses his art, Michael is in awe of this amazing morning. He can’t swear it’s a turning point, but he hopes it is. He knows Alex continues to attend weekly therapy sessions, and that he’s never not working toward his wellness. He hopes that by sharing this very special and very vulnerable part of himself, Alex fully understands Michael is here to stay. He hopes Alex wholeheartedly trusts he's not going anywhere, and that whatever he needs, Michael will always stand by him. He feels honored to know this part of Alex, and he will protect it fiercely.

“I love you.” Michael blurts out. It’s not the first time he’s said these words, or even the 50th time, but going by the look on Alex’s face, his timing is a little off.

“Uh, yes. Thank you. And I love you too.” Alex chuckles and then raises one eyebrow. “Are you only saying that because I’m showing you nude sketches I did of you?”

“Obviously. It’s the _only_ reason I would say that. I’m glad I didn’t have to explain myself further, and embarrass the both of us.”

Alex’s laughter is such a beautiful sound. Michael leans over and kisses his boyfriend’s soft lips.

“I _do_ love you, ya know? Even without your insane art skills or killer musical talent. Just you. I love _you_.” He feels Alex’s lips smiling against his own.

“I love you back, ya know? Even without your alien superpowers and crazy smart brain. I love _you_.”

~~~

They kiss for a long time after that, lost in one another. They eventually disentangle themselves and Alex goes back to showing Michael his art. They are both smiling and laughing. There is an ease to them, to this moment. Somehow knowing, believing, nothing can pull them apart. That who they are, how they love each other, and their commitment to their relationship is a gift that’s truly beyond the earth and sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
